


Valentines Day

by StripedTie



Series: Grab Your Happiness [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Music, Mental Instability, Screenplay/Script Format, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedTie/pseuds/StripedTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Consists of two Valentines related stories - second is Script Formated.<br/>Claire appears to hate Valentines Day. Entirely. With a good reason. Pretty big emotional difference to the last story in the 'series', but it does all kinda connect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written to accompany an old image. Said image is old and ugly, but I still like the writing.

"I'm sorry I'm back so soon. I bet you must be getting sick of seeing me so often, huh?"

She spoke as if she were talking to someone standing right beside her, an old friend or comrade. She kept her eyes closed, as if she were trying to keep this illusion up.

"I didn't bring any flowers yesterday, I know, I know. But I had a reason, see? Got better ones today, beats the hell out of some lillies or carnations. The thorns prick like a bitch, so I hope you like them. If not, at least pretend you do, got that?"

She paused, half expecting an answer, deep down knowing that was impossible, but still hoping.

"So. Yeah... Happy Valentine's Day, Steve. ... It's so bloody commercial, bet we would have been laughing at all the damn PDA going around today. Throwing a rock or two, knocking people into fountains."

Once more she stopped, all too aware her voice was beginning to break. She swallowed hard, taking another breath to try and stop herself from shaking.

"I... I really, do wish you were..."

She turned away, fingers clenching tigher atound the roses she held. She bit her bottom lip, choking back a sob before forcing herself to look back to the grave in front of her. "Here. I wish you were here, Steve, you've got no idea... But you just..."

Another deep breath. She could do this. She couldn't do it last year, or the year before. She had to finish talking, she had to do it this year. "You just keep my spot warm for me. I'll see you soon, okay? I know... I promise. I won't break this one, okay? I swear it. Hey, if you put in a good word for me up there, I might bring you some chocolates next time."

She knelt down, pushing the roses up against the tombstone. There was no body occupying the grave, she knew that, but it brought her peace - Even if it was only a little. To think that there could be a small chance he would be listening to her, and know that there was reason to wait for her.

"... I love you."

She rose back to her feet and swiftly left, no longer able to hold back the tears. She thanked the rain for hiding them from anyone she would pass in the cemetary, but knew the rain couldn't hide them from herself.

She never told anyone that knew her now why she hated that day so very, very much


	2. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fic in script form about Claire and her continuing hatred for Valentine's day. But what's this? Wesker, get out of the picture, you're making things worse! Set before RE5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to mention, and clear up any confusion, since it was brought up when I uploaded this onto Deviantart,  
> O.S. stands for Off Screen, not Oswell Spencer :) Spenser? Uh...  
> AND also a heads up ah no, not ClairexWesker fic, sorry to anyone that wanted that haha. Wesker's just being a dick.

          1. EXT. STREET, NIGHT, FOOTPATH  
          a near vacant street is brought into view. There are only  
          three cars occupying the street, blue, white and black  
          respectively. It is dark out, the street lamps on and light  
          leaking from store windows. Some retail stores are closed  
          but all cafes and small businesses are stretching into the  
          later hours. A thin, powder layer of snow covers the tops of  
          trees and the cars, as well as whatever is sewn out across  
          the street. The snow is beginning to pick up, becoming  
          heavier. Midst the snow a woman walks down the street,  
          hands in her pockets and glancing at the stores. Her gaze  
          rests on one of the cafes and she walks inside.

          2. INT. CAFE  
          POV. Shot from the door, camera pans from the left to the  
          right. There is a counter on the left with an employee  
          waiting lazily to be addressed. To the left of the counter  
          there is a glass case showing an assortment of cakes and  
          sweets. To the left are various tables and chairs, all  
          holding some elegance to them. A few people are seated,  
          mainly couples cuddling up to one another and a few waiters  
          and waitresses taking their time to relax. Camera switches  
          to tracking the woman at the door.

          The woman, CLAIRE REDFIELD, steps in from the cold and  
          strips off her red jacket. As she does so, a good deal of  
          snow brushes off onto the ground. She runs a hand through  
          her hair, snow caught in the auburn mess melt against the  
          touch. She walks over to a vacant table and sits down. She  
          idly grabs the small menu and flicks through it. She glances  
          up for a moment as her ears register the radio.

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Agitated) You'd think there were  
                    no other songs in the world... God  
                    Dammit.

          The song playing causes CLAIRE to shiver, out of sheer  
          disgust rather than being tired the song. The song playing  
          is 'Kiss You All Over' by Exile, and it clearly grates on  
          the young woman's nerves.

          The waiter walks over.

                              WAITER  
                    So what can I get you, Cutie?

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Not in the mood) Cappuccino will  
                    do me fine, thank you.

          The WAITER goes off and CLAIRE taps her fingers on the table  
          top, attempting to drown out the music. The WAITER soon  
          comes back and gives CLAIRE her order, but doesn't leave  
          just yet.

                              WAITER  
                    I must say, I'm curious...

                              CLAIRE  
                    Curiousity killed the cat, you  
                    know.

                              WAITER  
                    (Chuckles) Ah, you're right  
                    there... But if I can continue,  
                    what is a lovely woman doing all on  
                    her own during Valentine's day?

                              CLAIRE  
                    Maybe the standard lady hates  
                    Valentine's day.

          She takes a sip of her coffee and shifts her chair away from  
          the WAITER.

                              WAITER  
                    You know Sweetie, I get off my  
                    shift in twenty--

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Cuts in) My boyfriend's dead.

          The WAITER is caught off guard by this. CLAIRE digs her  
          hand into her pocket and throws some change onto her table  
          before storming out of the cafe. She slips her coat back on  
          and storms down the street.

          Each different store has a different song playing, all from  
          what seems like a Valentine's Day collection. She appear  
          quite bitter that 'In Love Again' by The Rogue Traders is  
          playing.

                              CLAIRE  
                    Fourteenth of February. Everyone  
                    has someone.

          A mental image passes through her mind of her older brother  
          with JILL VALENTINE, sitting at home by the fire.

                              CLAIRE  
                    CHRIS has JILL, of course...

          CLAIRE continues to walk, more snow collecting in her hair.  
          White begins to stain her neck and chest as her jacket is  
          unzipped. Another mental image passes in her mind, this one  
          of LEON KENNEDY reaching off screen, a red dress barely in  
          view.

                              CLAIRE  
                    And LEON's still chasing after ADA.  
                    What a moron... But maybe she'll  
                    cut him some slack tonight.

          CLAIRE stops at the street corner. The melody of the earlier,  
          heavier song has sunk into a soft melody from the small  
          store close by. She listens, recognizing it as 'Ghost' by  
          Umbrellas. She is thankful for something that wouldn't  
          really be considered a love song, although she can't pick  
          exactly what it is. A lonely, but beautiful sounding song.

          She leans against one of the trees taken root in the  
          sidewalk and listens quietly, before her mind continues. She  
          imagines a little cafe, more cosy to the one she had come  
          from, and thinks of REBECCA CHAMBERS and BILLY COEN sitting  
          together.

                              CLAIRE  
                    Even REBECCA's got her fella. And  
                    here I am, wondering around after  
                    coming back from the cemetery. Such  
                    a sorry excuse for a person.

                              O.S. ???  
                    That you are.

          CLAIRE jolt, pressing her back against the tree. The hair on  
          the back of her neck is standing on ends.

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Shouting) WESKER! What do you want?!

                              O.S. WESKER  
                    (Chuckles) Can't I simply enjoy a  
                    walk in the snow?

                              CLAIRE  
                    People enjoy the walk in the snow.  
                    Monsters enjoy maiming and killing  
                    the innocent. (Angered) What do you  
                    want?

          WESKER stands behind the other side of the tree. Clearly not  
          as tensed as the younger Redfield, he seems to be enjoying  
          her cornered responses. However, for now, he seems to have  
          no intent on causing her harm. Yet.

                              WESKER  
                    What is it you expect me to want?

                              CLAIRE  
                    Don't play mind games with me, I'm  
                    not interested in your bullshit,  
                    not today of all days.

                              WESKER  
                    (Grits teeth) Fiery, as expected.  
                    That Redfield attitude will see  
                    your death, if you aren't too  
                    careful.

          WESKER becomes irritated with CLAIRE's reluctance to listen,  
          but it isn't shown in his actions or his voice. He appears  
          as calm as ever.

                              WESKER  
                    Allow me the chance to continue,  
                    least you've lost fondness for your  
                    tongue remaining in your mouth.

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Flinches) You're not going to give  
                    me a choice here, are you? Hurry  
                    up.

                              WESKER  
                    Wise. Already you have proven  
                    yourself to have more intelligence  
                    than your wretched brother - Even if  
                    the amount is minuet.

          He stuffs his hand into his pocket, taking little time to  
          fish around through the occupants. He pulls out what appears  
          to be a key, twirling it around his finger before holding it  
          out. CLAIRE can just spot it from the corner of her eye,  
          saying nothing.

                              WESKER  
                    Tell me, can you see this?

                              CLAIRE  
                    I'm not blind.

                              WESKER  
                    Continue such manners and I will  
                    correct that for you with swift  
                    precision.

          CLAIRE manages to stop herself from flinching again,  
          refusing to show any sort of fear or fact that she may  
          possibly be intimidated by him.

                              CLAIRE  
                    It's a key, so what WESKER?

                              WESKER  
                    I can assure you that you will very  
                    much want this key. You may  
                    possibly even be on your hands and  
                    knees begging for it.

                              CLAIRE  
                    Ha. You want to see me down like a  
                    dog?

                              WESKER  
                    Considering it, you would have at  
                    least one use if you took the  
                    posture of a dog.

                              CLAIRE  
                    ... You're disgusting. You act and  
                    speak proper but you're sick as  
                    fuck.

                              WESKER  
                    Where my morals lie are not what's  
                    being questioned. On the contrary,  
                    I wish to know how far you could  
                    sink to obtain this.

          CLAIRE turns her head to look at the key. From what she can  
          see, it's engraved and looks decorative. Whether it actually  
          opens something or not, she's unsure.

                              CLAIRE  
                    I'll play your game. What's the key  
                    for?

                              WESKER  
                    If I told you that, it would ruin  
                    it.

                              CLAIRE  
                    If I don't know what it does, I  
                    won't know how far I'll go.

                              WESKER  
                    Well. Shall we establish some  
                    ground to debate?

                              CLAIRE  
                    I'm leaving.

          CLAIRE pushes herself off the tree and begins to walk,  
          taking no notice of the green traffic light. She looks up  
          just to see a car's headlights, frozen in the sights of an  
          oncoming vehicle. WESKER grabs her wrist, tugging her back  
          to the sidewalk just in time to get away unscathed. The  
          young woman stumbles over her feet, instinctively grabbing  
          onto WESKER, fingers clenching the fabric of his shirt  
          tightly. Heart racing, she apparently has no idea what she's  
          doing. WESKER himself does not appear fond of CLAIRE's  
          touch, let alone such a primitive action.

          The music from the store has changed. It appears to be a mix  
          CD, as the next song is 'The City Lights' by the same band.

                              WESKER  
                    Are you quite ready to unhand me?

          CLAIRE snaps back to reality, pushing herself off him. She  
          wipes her hands on her coat repeatedly, as if to get some  
          sort of bile off her hands. She's visually disgusted.

                              CLAIRE  
                    Why did you do that?

                              WESKER  
                    I have my reasons, and I can assure  
                    you, if it were not for one of  
                    recent, I would have gladly watched  
                    your demise.

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Sighs, agitated again.) What do  
                    you want from me?

                              WESKER  
                    Would you bow for the key?

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Reluctant.) If it were important,  
                    I guess I could put my pride away  
                    for such a thing.

                              WESKER  
                    Would you hide the mention of my  
                    appearance?

                              CLAIRE  
                    Same as above, unless my brother  
                    asked.

                              WESKER  
                    (Clenches his teeth at the mention  
                    of CHRIS) That loyalty remains as  
                    sickening as ever.

          WESKER pauses to think over what to ask next. He would  
          prefer to keep asking subtle questions, but knows time is  
          most likely limited. He taps the key in his hand, turning  
          his back to CLAIRE and taking a few steps in the opposite  
          direction. CLAIRE has her hands on her hips, sick of the  
          situation.

                              WESKER  
                    You must be tired by now.

                              CLAIRE  
                    No shit.

                              WESKER  
                    Ahem. A decider, a few deciders  
                    then, shall we? Would you touch me?

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Disgusted look) Touch...

                              WESKER  
                    Nothing such as what you are  
                    apparently thinking.

                              CLAIRE  
                    I'd really prefer not too. In all  
                    frankness you disgust me. If it was  
                    dire, I guess I'd manage.

                              WESKER  
                    Fair. Would you grasp my hand?

                              CLAIRE  
                    As long as it were gloved.

          WESKER turns to face her, hiding a smile that would show  
          that he was having quite some fun with this little Q and A.

                              WESKER  
                    Would you embrace me?

                              CLAIRE  
                    Is this some sort of sick, twisted  
                    way of you asking me out?

                              WESKER  
                    I assure you that is not so. Answer  
                    the question, Redfield.

                              CLAIRE  
                    I might be able to force myself to.  
                    As long as I had a good shower  
                    afterwards.

                              WESKER  
                    (Chuckles) Well I shall skip a few,  
                    for the sake of the next car that  
                    may have you on it's windshield in  
                    case you storm off before I come to  
                    a conclusion.

                              CLAIRE  
                    Cut to the chase, WESKER.

                              WESKER  
                    Would you continue to discard that  
                    pride of yours, and spend a night  
                    with me?

                              CLAIRE  
                    ...

                              WESKER  
                    Yes Redfield, in the way you're  
                    thinking about.

          CLAIRE's fists clench as her stomach churns. There is a solid  
          frown on her face, there simply because it is the only thing  
          she can do to not throw up. She breaths in as deep as she  
          can, unable to make (what there can be) eye contact with the  
          man before her. She gags as she tries to speak, honestly  
          struck ill by the thought.

                              CLAIRE  
                    I'd sooner die. What kind of...  
                    (Voice begins to break) What kind  
                    of sick fuck are you to ask me  
                    something like that on Valentine's  
                    Day? I thought you were a person  
                    that hurt people physically, or  
                    through empty threats.  
                    Congratulations, WESKER, (looks off  
                    to the side, in tears, voice  
                    strained and scratchy), way to  
                    fucking go. I don't know what you  
                    have to gain from all of this.  
                    Did you want to see me crying  
                    over him? No, no you're too high  
                    and mighty for that, aren't you?  
                    Piss off, WESKER, I don't know what  
                    the hell it is you want, and I  
                    don't care. Shove your key up your  
                    arse, whatever it's for, it's not  
                    worth this.

                              WESKER  
                    (Sly Smirk) Now now, Mrs.  
                    Burnside...

                              CLAIRE  
                    (Shouting) Go to hell!

          Once more CLAIRE storms off, this time having been faced  
          with no cars. WESKER simply stands and watches, the smirk  
          continuing to reside on his face. After a few metres,  
          CLAIRE's harsh walk breaks into a run. It's clear she has no  
          idea where she's going, but she's driven by heartache.

          WESKER's smirk slowly fades as he comes to the realisation  
          of what the events had just meant. He walks past the tree as  
          lights of stores flicker out, the music from the previous  
          store having been skipped back to 'Ghost'. It faded out into  
          the distance as he walked, glad to be away from the melody  
          but angered by the more annoying that followed from the  
          stores that remained open.

                              O.S. ???  
                    Was I right?

          A figure in the shadow addresses Wesker, who comes to a  
          halt. The figure takes a step out of the shadows, still  
          being partially cloaked.

                              O.S. ???  
                    Was I right? Well, was I? Tell  
                    me... (On the verge of shouting)  
                    Tell me now.

                              WESKER  
                    Hush your voice. Do you want to be  
                    seen in your state?

          A drawn out sigh of frustration comes from the shadows. A  
          young man's right side is completely hidden, all but a soft  
          red glow where one would presume his eye would be. His left  
          arm was heavily bandaged, a red colour seeping through. His  
          breathing is very heavy, and there are bandages covering the  
          lower area of his torso. The bandages seem to reach down his  
          waist, but seep into he darkness of the right and are hidden  
          by dark grey pants. A singlet shirt was worn, a lighter  
          shade of gray than his pants, but a vest thrown over his  
          shoulders was a black colour. He runs his tongue over his  
          lips, tugging at the dark red bandana around his neck with  
          his bandaged hand. His visible eye does not match the one that  
          glows through the darkness - It remains a soft blue, a reminder  
of old days.

                              ???  
                    (Stressed) Tell me.

                              WESKER  
                    Calm down. Is it so hard for you to  
                    comprehend that maybe---

                              ???  
                    (Shouting) She said no, didn't she?  
                    I knew it! I knew it! She said no  
                    to you, she turned you down, you've  
                    got nothing, nothing! You know why,  
                    huh? Because she still loves me!  
                    You hear me? She still loves me!

          WESKER's posture changes only slightly as he practically  
          backhands the young man, appearing to knock some sense into  
          him. The man stays in the position of just being hit, eyes  
          not concentrating on anything.

                              WESKER  
                    Continue that drivel of yours,  
                    STEVE, and I can promise you, I  
                    will make sure it proves to  
                    nothing. Keep your mouth closed, I  
                    tire of hearing it.

                              STEVE  
                    (Pauses) You just know I'm right.

          STEVE flinches as WESKER raises his hand in threat.

                              STEVE  
                    If you were right and I were wrong,  
                    would you have given it to her?

                              WESKER  
                    Dear boy, how do you even know that  
                    you were right.

          STEVE straightens up, not out of obedience but rather fear  
          of the thought. He had stopped listening to his mind long  
          ago, having it practically beaten out of him - but now,  
something was beginning to return.

                              STEVE  
                    ...

                              WESKER  
                    Now is not the time to dwell on it.

          WESKER grabs STEVE by the bandanna, fingers curling around  
          something strapped around the young man's throat.

                              WESKER  
                    We have things to attend to.

                              STEVE  
                    ... (Quietly) I want to see her...

          3. EXT. PARK, NIGHT  
          wideshot, birdseye view of the park. There are a number of  
          trees littering the area, dirt paths between them. There is  
          a gazebo in the middle, flowerbeds around the sides. Camera  
          comes back to a midshot with Claire, walking to the gazebo.

          CLAIRE pants as she walks, worn out from running. She places  
          her hands on the railing to the gazebo and breathes heavily,  
          collapsing onto the stairs. She puts her hands over her  
          ears, eyes closed tightly. All sense seems lost to her and  
          she just wants to be alone to mourn.


End file.
